


Promise

by ssstrychnine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssstrychnine/pseuds/ssstrychnine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol thinks about marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

Carol often thinks about marriage. She had been a wife for almost two decades and a widow for under two years. She knows that the others think of her in those terms, wife, mother, widow, and she doesn't mind it, not really, but it near convinces her that she’ll never get free from Ed, she’ll be the perpetual battered wife, even without him around to do the battering. 

The thing with Daryl creeps up on her. It’s his unwavering faith in Sophia’s survival first, then flowers, then motorbikes. Then it’s the way he’s always standing near her, not so close that she’ll feel crowded or babied, but close enough that she’s always aware that he’s _there_. He teaches her how to shoot, nudges her hands up the barrel of the gun with a surprisingly gentle touch, bumps into her with his shoulder and smiles at her from under his hair as she gets closer to the targets he sets her. They are a pair suddenly and she is not quite sure she’s ready to be half of something new yet. 

It’s not romantic, at least not as far as she’s aware, but she pushes at it anyway, tests his limits, bashful Daryl, awkward Daryl, inexperienced Daryl. She doesn't want to be half of a whole but she likes the fun parts, the parts where he tells her to stop with a barely concealed smile, the parts where he asks about her when she’s out of sight and she does the same for him. She doesn't like the not fun parts, where her hands shake when he’s late back from a run and she snaps at anyone who asks her a question until he’s back in sight again.

She tells herself over and over that it’s _not_ romantic, until suddenly it is. Maggie and Glenn get married, and of course a wedding makes her feel a thousand things, anger at Ed and residual fear. Love for her new family. _Love_. The most surprising thing she feels is _loneliness_. Or maybe it’s not that surprising at all, stuck at the end of the world. Maggie has flowers in her hair and Glenn has one in his top button hole and Hershel’s eyes are shining so bright and she knows suddenly that she _wants_ that. Not the ceremony, not the flowers, just the feeling. Daryl is standing next to her with finger combed hair, restless and uncomfortable, and just as suddenly she knows that she wants it with him. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she says and Maggie and Glenn are kissing and Daryl nudges her with his shoulder, his expression faintly concerned and she leaves quickly, trudges back up to her cell. 

He comes to her of course, but not immediately. He lets her settle into whatever thoughts she’d been dwelling on to make her leave. All one thousand of them. He knows her so _well_. Better than Ed ever did. She is lying on her cot, plucking petals off the flowers she’d held for Maggie, blowing them into the air so they fall onto the floor. He stands in her doorway for a moment before saying anything, she watches him, he holds her gaze for only a moment. 

“You okay?” he asks finally, still in the doorway.

“Of course,” she says, tugging off another petal, dropping it to the floor.

“The wedding was...”

“It was nice,” she finishes for him. “Like all weddings.” 

He waits for her to nod at him before moving inside, he leans against the wall next to her, slides down until he’s sitting next to the head of her bed, on all the bruised petals. 

“Like your wedding?” he asks hesitantly and she laughs, brushes the torn up flower off her hands, into his lap.

“Sure,” she says easily. “It was the marriage that was the problem, not the ceremony.”

He doesn't say anything to that. He picks up the flower she’d dropped, tugs off the remaining petals, twists the stem between his fingers. 

“Would you marry me if I asked you?” she asks him, blurting it out before she can stop herself. He freezes, drops the flower back onto the floor. He stays silent for so long she has time to think that this is the worst thing she’s ever said. She’s lost her best friend in a sentence. She doesn't even _want_ to be married again. 

“Ain't the guy supposed to propose?” he asks finally, making her jump so sharply she hits her head against the back bedrail. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I like to think I’m a modern woman,” she murmurs, trying to keep her voice even. “But if you’re so desperate to ask me, go right ahead.” 

He laughs shortly and she’s brave enough finally to look at him. He’s looking back at her, uncharacteristically bold, not hidden behind hair or chewing on his fingers or on his lips. She smiles at him. Some small part of her feels like crying but a larger, braver part of her feels like kissing him. Maybe this part of her has been around for a long time and she’d been too caught up in hating men or hating the world or hating herself to notice.

She gets up, stretches high, shaking petals from her hair and her clothes. He follows suit, unfolding to his feet in one fluid motion. 

“You wanna get married, then?” Daryl asks, and he’s not looking at her now, he’s rubbing at his neck self consciously, he’s asking the floor. Carol laughs and instinctively he takes a step back, backing into the wall.

“Not really,” she says quietly. “I’m not a huge fan of the idea.” 

Daryl nods, his hands twitch at his side. He’s still nodding when he starts to move passed her, toward the cell door. Carol reaches for him, catches his arm with the tips of her fingers, pulls him back next to her. She feels him shudder under the touch, she wonders if she can hear how fast her heart is beating. 

“Call it something different,” she says softly.

“You wanna get hitched?” he screws up his face, shaking his head. “Naw, that’s bad, you wanna be...joined in holy matrimony?” 

“No,” Carol laughs. “Definitely not. I want to...be yours, I want you to be mine.” 

“Well,” Daryl shrugs, an awkward breach of his shoulders. “That’s been true for awhile.” 

It’s that, really, those words, and the way he says them, a strange mix of discomfort and total confidence. It’s not a joke, not really, not like all the words around it. It’s not a marriage proposal either, it’s just a change, something new and true, a _promise_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Rhinozilla's 30 days of Caryl challenge - the prompt was day 12: proposing. It's set some time when the prison was good, a late wedding ceremony for Maggie and Glenn. I actually really hate the idea of Daryl and Carol ever getting married, so I was scared of this prompt and avoided it as best as I could. Hope you like it anyway! Thanks for reading!


End file.
